


FACT

by theprincesjewel



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 18:13:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19910038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincesjewel/pseuds/theprincesjewel
Summary: *mumbles incoherently* There was this plot bunny that bit me a long long long long long long time ago? And I never did decide who Jenova's other parent was, I don't think... check the babble passing as author's notes. I seriously don't remember. Actually, just read the first chapter prologue insanity.





	1. 0

FACT: Jenova can switch genders  
FACT: Jenova can shape shift  
FACT: Odin is a Summon  
FACT: Cloud’s motorcycle is Fenrir.  
FACT: Sephiroth has the beauty and abilities of a god.  
SUPPOSITION: Loki is Jenova’s parent.

The plot bunny beleaguered authoress glared at the latest plot bunny she had been curs – ahem! – blessed with, and scowled. Perhaps posting it to facebook and LiveJournal would be enough to belay the bunny?

Then she realized she had just committed it to PAPER! Had she not been sprawled in her bed, headdesking would have commenced.

Okay. Well. Not a problem! No! She would… simply put it in digital form, and post it to fanfiction.net. As… a prologue! Yes! A prologue! Thereby perhaps convincing the bunnies that it would have a chance in hell of being continued. Also, of course, passing on the evil bunny of plot to potentially millions of unsuspecting fanfic writers like herself, which would at least provide her with something to read.

She nodded, pleased with this plan.

And then wondered:

WHO is the OTHER parent?

Moments later, hysterical laughter filled the room.

She was soooo doomed!

Scowling, she set about preparing for the launching of the plot bunny, since she had a vague memory of ff.net having changed things so that drabbles required a minimum of 500 words, and she had only… 222. WAIT! She could add a disclaimer!

DISCLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is insane, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about Xander as the other parent?

Yeah, right, that doesn’t sound quite right.

Jewel had by then switched from paper to digital format, and proceeded to scowl at her screen. Who in bloody blazes deserved to be Sephiroth’s other grandparent. Great-grandparent. And honestly, can it be written to completely ignore Hojo? Even if she had cos-played as the megalomaniac scientist at one time.

Yep, yep, because we are trying to come up with who Loki knocked up… oh wait, he can genderbend… who knocked him up?

A brief recap of Loki confirms that nobody seems to know precisely what he is god of, or else he’s ridiculously damned powerful because he really is the God of Lies, God of Mischief, God of Fire, AND the God of Chaos. (Plus any that nobody remembers these days). Or if he is Thor’s brother, Odin’s brother, or if it’s his mother or his father who goes by Laufey.

Damned complicated little god anyway! He’s probably the God of Plot Bunnies, too, and not the damned Grecian Muses who got blamed for them most. And… no. Still not at 500 words.

Spike?

Right, vamps can’t – but Angel did? No… well, there’s the cheekbones… and… um… yeah, let’s not.

How old is Jenova supposed to be, anyway? Could she maybe be (he maybe be) old enough to be one of Loki’s original children?

*contemplates Loki & Aphrodite and collapses in a heap of sniggering*

Definitely a prologue, she decided. It’s going to take ages to come up with a proper other parent. And yes! She FINALLY has enough words! She saved, and prepared to post.

*rescans rules*

*frowns*

Not a non story. Not one or two lines. Not an MST. Ummm… no, I count as a fictional character, and we’re going to use Loki (wait, does he count as historical) from Marvelverse (so, no), and Sephiroth and… okay, good there too. And it’s not interactive, chat/script/keyboard dialogue based.

It’s not being multiplied or rewritten, or copied from previously published work not in public domain.

Title and Summary will be babified. Oh, rating. Hm. Well, this is me. Better make it whatever the highest is. I wonder if there IS a proper category? Duh.

*examines rating* I never write K. Oh, wait. I wrote Sonrise, didn’t I? Never mind. T? We’re discussing LOKI, here. Oh, okay, we’re going with M. Fade to black is good.

*examines author list* Sooo… if I go to Firesong for the other half, I’m safe. Not that I will… because I think I will go with… huh. What are my crossover options? Guess that’s it! Uploading! (I’m still tempted to turn to Buffyverse. Oh gods. Ethan Rayne????)


	2. 1

I have forgotten, since it’s been soooo long since I’ve written… but… hmmm… oh, lemme find it *starts erasing*   
*unerases disclaimer* DISCLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is insane, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about ….

Ficcage:

“Jenova,” Loki decided. “I’ll name you Jenova.”

The baby gurgled happily up at him – and shifted. Loki’s eyes went wide. “Oh no!” He had to hide the child before Odin found out he had birthed another monster and exiled her. Him. But where? Where could the Allfather not find his babe? Where would his child be safe – and he still able to raise her?

His magic rose up around them both, freezing them both into female forms and ensuring that Heimdell would not see them. Loki sobbed once, but he had no time to cry for his daughter’s eventual fate if he could not get moving. It was far, far too soon after the birth, even with his healing magic, but he had no choice. They could not stay in Asgard, and he should not have returned to begin with.

He stood unsteadily, his daughter clutched tightly to him, and tore open the hidden paths. He slipped through, unsteady and far too weak to direct them properly. They warped through time as well as space, though he did not realize it, and came to rest in a much-changed Midgard.

It was not a good change, and Loki ripped the pathways open once more. His child would not be safe in this war-torn place. He lost track of how many times he opened the paths, how many realms he stumbled in and out of, how many different times he inadvertently found himself fleeing in his attempt to find a safe place for his daughter.

He could not return her to their time. Odin would find her, hurt her, bind her, exile her. He could not take her to her father’s time, either. It had to be a time… a time after Ragnarok, and in a safe realm. Midgard. Midgard. He would take her there, she would be safe there. Odin had little use for the humans now. Even if he could not find a time after Ragnarok, perhaps he could find a time when it was peaceful and Odin was uncaring of human affairs.

Yet each Midgard he found was warring, and unsafe, or he could feel his father’s close involvement with the humans of the time. He expanded his search once more. Loki was utterly exhausted when he finally entered a realm – he no longer knew which one – that was tranquil. He could hear no sounds of war, could sense no indication of his father. He collapsed, curling around his daughter, and released the magic that held her form in check. He remained female so that he could feed her.

Loki woke to a soft bed and a light blanket in a sunlit room in shades of soft green, and the sounds of his babe’s hungry fussing. He tended to her first, changing the dirtied diaper with the clean ones left for him, and observing the room more closely as he fed her.

It was an odd room, with curving walls that resembled those of a shell, and round windows that displayed only the fact that he was near a forest. He was fairly certain he had last been in the middle of a meadow, but he had not been paying all that much attention to his surroundings.

“Ah, you are awake.” His eyes shot to the speaker. “I am Tayla. I have brought you a meal.”

He watched as the young woman walked gracefully to the small table beside the chair, and unloaded the tray she had brought. “We know not if you are one who will not eat of animals,” she said softly, “so it was decided that you would be offered fruits, vegetables, and grains.”

“I eat meat,” Loki replied, “and I would like some milk if it is available.”

She nodded. “I will bring milk and cheese. You are not of the Cetra.”

“The what?”

“Our people are called the Cetra.”

Loki blinked. “My people are the Æsir of Asgard,” he said after a moment. “I do not know the Cetra.”

She gave him a long, level look. “Nor I the Æsir. It is of no concern. If we are unknown, we are not enemies.”

“Is… is there war here?” Loki asked wearily. “I am so tired of trying to find a safe place for my child.”

“We are not at war. I will bring your milk.”

Loki sighed, looking down at his little one. Her skin was the palest of blue, her wings and hair silver. Odd little protrusions he could not identify knobbed her skin. She had his eyes, though, a brilliant, glittering green, and his facial structure. The tiny girl – who chose to morph to her male form – looked nothing like his father. 

Tayla had said nothing of the child’s appearance, and Loki was not sure if that was a good thing, or a bad one. Loki sighed heavily. He would stay as long as he could, as long as he could avoid the Allfather. And then he would have to leave to protect Jenova, to keep her safe from her grandfather by doing something utterly outrageous to draw his father’s attention to him.

He had time, at the moment. Loki relaxed into the seat, and teased a radish from the plate. He would find a way to keep Heimdell’s all-seeing eyes from his child, to keep his father’s attention on him rather than the reason he had vanished, find someone he could trust to raise his little one when he had no choice but to return to his proper time and place, and come up with a reason why he had returned without the child his lover had been eagerly anticipating.

Loki sighed, and shifted the sleeping child to the cradle. His lover was not going to be happy with him.  
________________________________________

Jewel glared at the bunny. “Happy? There’s the first chapter. AND I STILL DON’T KNOW WHO DADDY IS!!!!”


	3. 2

I have forgotten, since it’s been soooo long since I’ve written… but… hmmm… oh, lemme find it *starts erasing*   
*unerases disclaimer* DISCLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is insane, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about ….

Ficcage:

Two years he had been on this strange world known only as Planet. Well, perhaps not so strange, since Midgardians referred to their home as Earth, which basically meant the same thing: ball of mud and water floating in space.

His daughter – or son, depending on the day – was growing well. She, since she was in her feminine form now, had never lost the light blue tint to her skin that would doom her if the Allfather ever came to this world. Loki scratched out a few more lines in the journal, and laid the pen aside with a weary sigh as Tayla entered with a meal for him.

“Thank you.”

She nodded slightly, and took up the book, turning back to where she had left off reading. Loki had already determined that if he had to leave unexpectedly, Tayla would be the one to care for and raise Jenova, and that he would have to have some sort of information available on the troubles they might expect from her grandfather.

Yes, his account was probably a bit skewed, given that it was told from his point of view, but it was his point of view that counted when it came to his children! Especially this little one, the only one of the children he had managed to keep out of his father’s reach for more than a year. How much longer he would be able to evade detection, he was not sure.

Last time, it hadn’t taken the Allfather so long to find him. He had had only two months with that child. Absently scooping some of the rabbit stew into his mouth, he wondered what would happen to any child born by an Æsir or a normal Asgardian peasant woman. Would that child also be banished before it had even begun to live? Probably not. That one would probably be considered a proper child, not a monster. His father had said it was his Jotun mistress’ dirty blood that made the children monsters.

“Oh!” Tayla said softly.

“What?”

“Your daughter… so young?”

“Yes. I… visit her when I can, but… I must hide my visits to all my children. I only hope to be able to stay long enough to see Jenova grown.” Loki twitched nervously, rising from his half-eaten meal and going to look out his window once again, nervously scanning the sky.

“Sit and eat, Lord Prince,” she requested softly.

“I… yes. The longer I remain undiscovered, the more nervous I become.”

She laughed lightly. “We are all of us aware of this, my lord. Everyone has learned to tread cautiously on your more nervous days. Already the children have been warned to play on the other side of the village.”

Loki flushed. “Am I so bad?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes, you are much worse, and the houses nearby are evacuated,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Other days, you are quite tolerable, and indeed a joy to be around.”

“Thanks, I think,” Loki muttered, and resumed his interrupted meal. Jenova woke from her nap before he was done, and he got her settled in the high chair with her own little bowl, spoon, and cup. “There, little one. It is rabbit stew today.”

“Yum!” The little gi – boy dug in happily.

“Is it common for your people to be able to change their sex?” Tayla asked after a moment. “Your journal does not mention such a thing.”

Loki frowned. “There are few males among the Æsir who work magic. Very few. I know… of no other sorcerers in Asgard, but there are several sorceresses. As far as I know, however, I am the only one with the ability to shift my shape as naturally as I breathe. I went to each of the great sorceresses for training, being sent from one to another when they could teach me no more… and learned all that they could teach me. Yet, I still… I still feel there is more to learn that I do not yet know.”

“We will teach you the ways of our magic,” Tayla replied complacently. “I read nothing here that sounds similar.”

That was how Loki found himself learning to use materia, something he likened more to a spellstone than to actual magic. He found it relatively simple, until he was given his first summon, Ramuth. The summon seemed to him an old man version of Thor, and he flatly refused to use the orb again; in fact refusing to leave his bedroom for a week after its use, remaining curled around his child with fearful eyes pinned to the window.

Tayla did not offer him more summons to learn. She showed them to him, named them, described them, and told what they did. Loki’s face went deathly pale when she described Leviathan, so similar to his own water serpent son. “Is there one with my name?” he had whispered.

“No. This one… is called Odin, however.” She raised another red orb. “He is an older man, garbed in stran –“ Her voice cut off as Loki shifted.

“Like this?”

“Exactly so, but on a steed with eight legs. How…”

“My father, and my firstborn, Sleipnir. Put that… somewhere far away, please, and let it never be used near me or mine.”

“It will be as you say, young prince.” Tayla wrapped the orb back into its silk wrapping, replaced it in the box, and locked the box. She handed him the key. “Do you wish to use your own magic to ensure it stays locked?”

Loki looked from the box to his daughter, and to the stormclouds brewing outside. “I want my magic near nothing that might lead Odin to us,” he replied.

“Very well.” She left, taking the horrible summon with her. Loki watched the approaching storm nervously as Jenova clung to him, whimpering softly. Loki watched the pattern of the lightening for a long time before determining that it was not his brother sent to find him. Still, neither of them were able to sleep until after the storm had passed.

________________________________________

Jewel blinked in bewilderment at her email. Favorited and followed? “The world is a stranger place than I thought…”

On the plus side, the bunny may have decided to let her know who Daddy is. She’s not sure yet. Guess we’ll find out later?


	4. 3

I have forgotten, since it’s been soooo long since I’ve written… but… hmmm… oh, lemme find it *starts erasing*   
*unerases disclaimer* DISCLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is insane, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … (do I want him human? Diety? Ooooh, how about TMftVA… or is that TMftEV? Somehow, that seems like a Loki thing to do. I think I just scared myself.)

Ficcage:

“Must you go, Papa?”

“I fear I have stayed too long already, little one.” Loki cast another uncertain look at the sky. “Too often have these storms come over us. I fear my father is close to discovering us. You must remain always shifted to appear fully Cetran, my sweet Jenova, that you may hide among them more easily.”

His son nodded. “I haven’t shifted from Cetran for years, Papa. Just sex.”

He stroked the boy’s long silver hair. “You shall be a heartbreaker, my child, regardless of which sex you choose to conceal yourself. Never forget that you are the child of a god, little one, and that there is a vengeful god looking for you. I will come to visit as I can, but… I am uncertain of when or how I shall return.”

“I’ve read the journal, Papa,” the boy returned with a grin. “You’ve got no idea where or when you wound up. Just… in case you don’t come back, who is my father?”

“Your father…” Loki murmured unhappily, and was distracted by a blast of lightening that threw them both off their feet.

Jenova crawled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. “Lord Loki! Are you harmed?” he cried.

“Go back to the city! Find your mother! Tell them to prepare!” Loki ordered, staring up at the vision in the clouds. “Someone has summoned Ramuth against us!”

“Yes, my lord!” the boy cried, already moving away from the battlefield. Loki cast a reflect on him anyway, just in case, and was gratified that his action was in time.

He nearly pissed his pants when Odin appeared next to Ramuth, and cast a hasty spell of protection over himself, as well. Was it his father, or the summon?

“Loki Liesmith!” the thing roared, “you will pay for your crimes against Asgard!”

Not the summon! Loki cast a look at where he had last seen his son, and was startled to see the Cetra surrounding the teen. “I have committed no crimes against Asgard! I came here to live peacefully!” he cried back even as he wove the spell he would need to take them away.

Yet suddenly there were two Odins above him, two Sleipners, two Ramuth. The Odin summon took out the Ramuth that had originally attacked him, and to his great relief, Loki saw it dissipate as a fallen summon rather than fall as a defeated god.

Where the hell had his father gotten a Ramuth summon?

The second Ramuth attacked the first Odin as the second one vanished back to its containing materia, and dissipated moments later when Odin took it out. Other summons were called by the Cetra and set against the King of Asgard. All fell, none of them succeeding in doing more than angering the King.

Odin struck, not at Loki, but at his defenders. The shield spell over Jenova was all that saved his child. Loki could feel that the child was still alive under the press of the bodies. “No!” he screamed. “No! My friends! Flee!”

The few who could did as he said, and Loki launched himself at his father, armed only with the spell that would shift them through the hidden paths between the realms.

By the time Jenova recovered and crawled out from under the dead, his mother was gone. The boy began searching through the bodies, looking for any alive and in need of aid. He found only three: his adoptive mother Tayla, her husband Zeneal, and his half-sister, Loche.

It was another hour before help came. By then he had bound what visible wounds his family had, laid the dead out in rows, and tidied their clothing and hair.

He didn’t expect the help to turn on the survivors the moment the dead were buried. Jenova had the magic his sister lacked, and blasted their attackers with a very unfocused wave of his hand. He scooped his sister up as he ran past her, heading for the trees. He had to get her to safety.

It took him weeks to gather the few friends he had still loyal to him. They moved south, crossing the ocean and continuing on. Jenova stood on a rocky crag overlooking a broad plain with an ocean view. “There,” he said tiredly. “We’ll make our new home there.”

“What will we call it, my lord?”

“Midgar, Shin-Ra. We’ll call it Midgar, after a place my mother was once worshipped as a god.”

“Sure. Uh… he was a god, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, you idiot. You know perfectly well he was.”

“Does that make you a god?” his friend asked.

“I honestly don’t know. He never told me if my father was a mortal or a god,” Jenova said unhappily. “Had my asshole of a grandfather not have attacked, I might have learned his name.”

“Sooo,” the blond said, sitting on the edge of the cliff, “we’ll build down there? With what?”

Jenova snorted. “My magic, I suppose, and the rocks from these cliffs. We will not have the most beautiful of things, as we once did, but we will at least have a home once more.”

A redheaded female laid her hand on his shoulder. “Farmers?” she asked curiously. “Do you intend us to become simple farmers?”

“It seems safest,” Jenova answered with a grin. “We have to eat, after all, and raising our own food is the best method to ensure we don’t starve. The game… has not been particularly tasty.”

They all grimaced. “So it has,” dark-haired Faladin agreed. “Shall we each have a home, my lord, or do we have but one communal house?”

Jenova turned to look at the sun, and then across the plain once more. “Shin-Ra? Your opinion?”

The blond studied the area below them thoughtfully, tilting his head and breathing in deeply. “It is spring here, well into the growing season,” he murmured. “Our beasts at least will prosper.

“As for housing, this first year our priority should be safeguarding the beasts and putting in crops. A barn must be the first priority, a storehouse second. I expect even with your magic, my lord, it will take some time to build what we need for the winter. We can collect rocks as we make our way down from the cliff to the site of our new home, and I will be able to give you a better estimate of whether we build a communal home or separate ones once I have seen how quickly the fences, barns, and storehouses may be raised, and how well we do as farmers.”

“There are seven of us. We shall each have our own farm to tend, but for this first year we shall keep all the beasts and ourselves in an eighth communal area,” Jenova decided. “Once we have survived a winter in this place, we will see to building a home, barn, and storehouse for each farm, even if it must take us eight years to get them all built.”

Rala laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Such pessimism, my lord prince! Surely it will not take us eight years!”

“Where think you the best spot, Shin-Ra?” Jenova asked.

“Not too close to the water, since our focus is to be farming,” the blond mused. “Na, Faladin, you were one to always be fishing! How far away should we have it to ensure good crops?”

“And here I thought you were the one who best knew the desires of the Planet,” Faladin teased.

“Her wants, yes, and her needs, but that has nothing at all to do with building a permanent settlement. You know full well the Cetra have had but one in all our history.”

“True, true.” Faladin approached the edge, surveying the plain in his turn. “Do you see the small copse of trees there?” he asked, pointing to the specific one he meant. “We shall have it for the center of our park. It is close enough to the ocean that I can still go fishing once I have again a boat, but far enough that crops will grow!”

________________________________________

Jewel glared at the plot bunny. “Half-sister? Half-sister? THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?????” She typed for awhile, and then read what she typed, and promptly facepalmed. “Shin-Ra. As a Cetra. My brain is so broken due to my mind right now…”

Hastily, she jotted notes on the characters she had introduced, and added a few for the ones that didn’t get a part to play so she wouldn’t forget who or what they were (or accidentally confuse them with characters from either one of the many other fics that she was reading or writing).

New characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s best friend  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is ominously silent concerning her.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child. As of this chapter, she’s all of three years old.

Eh? Oh. Jenova is the oldest of the group. He’s 17, and yes, the Cetrans do treat him as royalty, just as they did his father, right up until his asshole of a grandfather obliterated most of the ones he lived with. And no, he’s not supposed to be insane and power hungry yet. He’s only 17.

Jewel scowled. Jenova has to go batshit insane, basically destroy the Cetra, and attempt to destroy the world. Considering he just basically ordered his sister to marry one, she wondered what kind of horror the plot bunny has in store for the poor guy. Girl. It.


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention - this fic was started 10/1/2012

I have forgotten, since it’s been soooo long since I’ve written… but… hmmm… oh, lemme find it *starts erasing*  
*unerases disclaimer* DISCLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is insane, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … (do I want him human? Deity? Ooooh, how about TMftVA… or is that TMftEV? Somehow, that seems like a Loki thing to do. I think I just scared myself.)

Oh, and if you must know, 10 years have gone *whoosh!*

Ficcage:

“I wonder, Shin-Ra, if we had too many babies too quickly,” Jenova said. He stood on his balcony, staring out at the children playing in the copse.

“No. The Planet is pleased,” Shin-Ra replied, looping his arms around his sometimes lover’s waist. “We have just enough.”

“Are you certain? I have… an uneasy feeling.”

“That’s,” Shin-Ra dragged out the word, “not good! Give me a moment.” The blond jumped from the balcony to the ground, landing easily before jogging to the closest flowerbed. Jenova shook his head fondly as the blond knelt and began stroking the flowers’ stems.

“What has made you uneasy, my love?”

“I am uncertain,” Jenova admitted. “I feel that something terrible is about to befall us, but I have no idea why! Especially on a day so beautiful as today,” he added with a glance at the clear sky.

“Could it be your Papa’s family?”

“It is to be hoped not. Our settlement would not survive my grandfather visiting.” Jenova sighed. “I must leave soon, Krystal.”

“Why?”

“I need to return to the Ancient City, to Papa’s home, and see if the journal is still where he left it. We need it here more than they need it there. Our children must know the dangers they may face.”

“We don’t have any children, Lord Jenova.”

He pulled her against his chest, nuzzling the flame-bright hair. “The city’s children, my love. I… seem unable to give anyone a child.”

“I did notice you switched back,” she teased.

“I cannot help but shifting if I must otherwise endure menstruation!” he retorted. “Tell me truthfully that you would not do the same!”

“I think… I would not, if I was truly determined to bear a child,” she said after some thought. “You shift, but you are never long in the female form these days. Perhaps there is a time of adjustment required after the shift, so that you may bear our blond a babe?”

“Perhaps,” he agreed reluctantly, “yet this form is the stronger, and you know there is much labor to be done.”

“There is always much labor to be done, my lord, yet here you are, lazing about on your balcony.”

“Today is a holiday, and you know that full well! Else my house would not be host to every member of our small community.” Jenova turned his attention to the approaching blond. “What says the planet, dear one?” he called.

“She is agreed that something comes!” Shin-Ra called back, “but she does not know what. The Ancestors are troubled, my lord prince. Perhaps the journey of which you spoke should be undertaken more swiftly.” Shin-Ra came to a halt beneath the balcony. “She says that it does not seem like the trouble shall originate from her people.”

Jenova bit his lip. “I’m not yet prepared to leave,” he murmured quietly, “but if I must go earlier, I can be ready by the end of next month if I magic up what I have yet to make.”

“Then this you must do,” Krystal agreed.

“Come, we may as well tell the others.” Jenova turned and escorted the woman from the balcony and to the large open hall below. He shot a quick glance at the buffet, ensuring that he did not need to make a mad dash to the kitchen area to retrieve anything, and joined his friends at the table.

Krystal took her seat, and Shin-Ra was soon seated as well. Jenova remained standing, a frown creasing his brow. It didn’t take long for the others to quiet and look attentive. Miklain scrutinized him carefully, and sighed. “Something has happened. Will you tell us?”

Jenova nodded. “I had planned after harvest to begin a journey to the Ancient City to retrieve my Papa’s journal. But I have grown increasingly… disturbed these last few days. Shin-Ra, will you tell them?”

The blond stood. “The Planet can sense that something is coming, my friends, and does not feel that this trouble will originate from among her people.”

“If it concerns my… family,” Jenova continued after they had turned back to him, “we must have Papa’s book, that you and our children may have a better chance to prepare for what is coming. I… think it best to leave as soon as I may, rather than waiting until the harvest. If I craft with magic rather than my hands those things I will need, I can be ready to travel in one month’s time.”

“Should I come too, then?” Loche asked. “I am your sister.”

“No. I want you nowhere near those who sought to kill you when you were naught but a child! Stay with Shin-Ra. He will protect you.” Jenova sighed. “If… if I do not return in three years, Loche, Shin-Ra, I ask that you marry.”

“Are you certain?” Shin-Ra asked. “I am… rather old for her, am I not?”

Jenova sighed, and rubbed at his forehead. “I suppose you are, but I would still rather know that she is safe in your home, my friend. She would drive Miklain to distraction. Faladin – though I love you dearly – is far too flighty to take on a wife on a permanent basis.”

“And what exactly is wrong with me?” Jorran demanded.

“You, my friend, have sired half of the children we have! You do not need my sister as well!”

“That, and I like Shin-Ra better,” the teen informed him. “He does not tease me as badly as you do.”

“Ah! I am heartbroken!” Jorran cried, pressing his hands to his chest. “The fair maiden has cast me aside!”

“Somehow, that does not surprise me,” Jenova muttered as the others laughed at Jorran’s antics. “Lovely to look at, but such a flair for drama!”

He left Shin-Ra in charge a month later, and headed out to retrieve his Papa’s book.

________________________________________

Now there is a threat of Ru-kun being Loki’s, too. Jewel glared at the plot bunny. “My BRAIIIIIN! Oh, wait. Perhaps I should be more worried about my mind? No, no, you’re perfectly right. There is no help at all for my poor mind. It is… too far gone for recovery. Obviously. I’m talking to a plot bunny. Or readers. I don’t remember which! Both?”

She decided to update the notes right quick, and wondered why in hell the bunny appears to want Loche to produce a Shin-Ra – NO! – a legitimate Shin-Ra brat. And then decided it was probably better not to know.

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child. As of this chapter, she’s all of thirteen years old.  
Jenova - the oldest of the group at 27, de facto leader


	6. 5

IS CLAIMER: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … (I’m still waiting on clues)

I suppose we better find out what’s up with Loki, hm?

Ficcage:

He hated them. Hated them with every fiber of his body and every ounce of his passion – and Loki was a very passionate god. It was their fault. All their fault. He would get his revenge, somehow. Someday. Not today though. This was a revenge that would have to be very very carefully planned. He dared not make a single mistake.

After all, one did not lightly seek retribution on the Norns.

Loki closed the book he had been reading, and quietly left the library. He slipped into the shadowed ways as he walked to his room, pondering what he had just learned, and everything he knew of the Norns.

It occurred to him then that he actually knew very little about them. That would make it decidedly difficult to plan his vengeance. Their vengeance. He slipped sideways in the shadows, stepping out into Nifelheim. “Hel?”

“Papa!” He had an armful of Death a moment later.

“You have grown so much!” he murmured, hugging her tightly. “I am so sorry I have missed seeing you grow up.”

“It is not your fault, Papa,” she told him, refusing to release her hold. “I know the Allfather does not allow you to come see me often.”

“He does not allow it at all, little Hel.” Loki pried her off so he could look into her eyes. “I have never come by his grace or with his permission. I must always sneak away in order to see any of my children… save Sleipner.”

“And he takes after his father,” Hel said with a little twist of her lips. “The Allfather truly does not allow you to come?”

“No. He fears what might come.”

“From a father’s visit to a child?” Hel exclaimed.

“I am prophesied to start Ragnarok with the aid of my children,” Loki explained. “I found the prophesy only today. Hel, he has kept us separated and most of my children banished or in chains because of that prophesy!”

“Tell me,” she said coldly, and listened as he did. “I will send my brothers back, but I intend to have a very long talk with the Allfather,” the goddess said when he finished. “You will be given the option to stay or return, Papa.”

“I will probably return, and visit a great deal more often, and for longer. I must go before I am discovered.”

“Fare well, Papa.”

“Be happy, Hel,” he whispered, and stepped back into the shadowed ways. He popped out into his bedchamber, and headed straight through it to the bathing room, shedding armor and clothes as he went. He was unsurprised when his concubine – quietly submissive – joined him after he had relaxed into the hot water.

“May I be of service, my prince?”

He rolled his head to look at her lush curves, expression blank. “Fetch something to eat. Fruit and cheese, I think,” he said tiredly. “I am in no mood for more.”

“Of course, my lord.”

He watched her go, and sighed. The woman was undoubtedly beautiful, extremely skilled, and he would much rather bed his long-dead Jotun mistress than the concubine his father had given him. For that matter, he would much rather bed Fandral, and that was a truly cringe-worthy thought. Then again, perhaps he would. It was no great feat to transform into a female, and Fandral was not hard on the eyes.

Volstag, though…. Loki cringed at the idea of seeing the man naked on purpose. It had been bad enough that one time he had walked in on the man in the public baths. Ah, yes, that was the reason he had a private bathing chamber now! How could he have forgotten that horror? Right. Proper mental application. Loki applied himself, and proceeded to forget it again.

He allowed the woman to feed him when she came back, and to wash him when he had finished. He rarely made sexual use of his only concubine, another thing that undoubtedly contributed to the rumors of his supposed preferences. Absently, he sent her away before going to bed. He was quite well aware that when he did not make use of her, others did.

Loki stared up at the canopy, and wondered if it was that, or that she was barren, that made her so utterly unappealing to his sexual appetites. In all the time he had owned her, he had used her all of thrice. Three times in the last five years, as Asgard told time. For Loki, it had been so much longer.

Loki sighed, and shifted onto his side. The first time had been singularly unpleasant, coming as it did after that row with Sigyn. She had left, and taken their children with her. The only children his father had not banished, Nari and Vali, the ones that appeared, like Loche, to be entirely normal.

The second time had been equally unenjoyable, considering how miserable he had been over the loss of his two youngest. Oh, to be sure, she had been trying to cheer him up, but still! To expect mere sex to ease the pain of his heart? To expect it to be enjoyable after the beating his father had given him for leaving Asgard yet again without permission, and to remain gone over a year? No.

He shuddered, thinking of how much worse the beating could have been, had his father known that he had slipped through time and truly been gone closer to seventeen years, bearing one child and siring another. He had run as soon as he had discovered his pregnancy, after all, and he still was not certain if his father knew of the children.

His mind returned to the woman he had sent away. The last time he had had sex with her was over three months ago. Once again, he had failed to find the time and realm in which he had left his children. He had told her to prepare herself, watched as she pleasured herself instead, and had taken his frustration out on her unprepared back passage, over the edge of the filled bathtub. He had nearly drowned her during that violent coupling, but could not bring himself to give a damn about her well-being.

Even now, he still felt nothing for her. He did not care if it was she or one of the other servants who helped him bathe or dress, or if he tended himself. Loki often did not even bother to acknowledge that she was even in his chambers. He did not crave her skills, nor make use of them often.

Maybe it was because he knew she was barren. She had no true worth as a woman, and was merely a toy for his amusements, a tool to slake his lusts.

And he would still rather bed Fandral. In fact, at the moment, he would allow Fandral into his bed, and allow the man to take him, even without shifting sexes.

Loki shivered, and pulled the blankets tighter. Better to think of his children than sex. He would visit the rest of the children he could locate, and tell them of the prophesy. Jenova and Loche were not mentioned in it, and he was fairly certain now that his father did not know of their existences.

His jaw clenched. He would need to tell Jenova’s father what had become of his wife and their child, and he would need to do it soon. The man was mortal, after all. Mortal, in a time of war. He might have died during the year that Loki had been away.

Loki sighed, and gave up the idea of sleep. He rose, shifted into a female, and went to find Fandral. Even allowing that lecherous lout to plunder his body was a better option than his nightmares were bound to be. She paused at her door, long hair swinging down to hide her face. It shortened as he turned and headed back to his bed.

He was not that desperate for companionship. If he was, he would… slip through the shadowed ways to his mortal lover’s home. Loki found himself naked and knee-deep in snow thirty seconds later, and bashed his head against the nearest tree as he shifted, again, to the form his lover knew.

Loki returned to Asgard an hour later, wrapped himself in his blankets, and mourned. This lover, he could not visit in death. He did not know the gods of his lover’s former land well enough to know which of the multitude of deities to request the honor of visiting his beloved. Still, he would return later to the shrine for his lover’s main god, and offer something. Perhaps the Dragon would take pity on him.

________________________________________

Authoress sketch:

“SHUT UP! I AM TRYING TO WRITE THE SEPHIROTH IS RELATED TO LOKI FIC! I DO NOT NEED THE “If Doom is courting Death, doesn’t that mean the Goddess of Death, Hel, aka LOKI’S DAUGHTER, and it is therefore a bad idea for Doom to plan to hurt Loki?” BUNNY!” Jewel shrieked.

“As if my brain didn’t hurt bad enough. Now, where was I in the fic? Oh, right, an armful of Death.”

“A clue! He’s mortal! Thank goodness. I was worried about the TMftFV! Because, you know, Loki will go there. Just… not until between Thor and Avengers. Neither of which we’ve gotten to yet, unless you consider them bypassed because FFVII is set so far past then. Hmmm…. NOOOOO! BAD BRAIN! NO TMftFV Avenger pregnancies!!!! Though, it would explain those mood swings.”

Jewel sighed, and facepalmed, though she wondered if headdesking would be more efficient.

“And people wonder why sleep eludes me. That’s my mind while I’m awake enough to restrict it some. Now, imagine it unrestrained, and think of what my DREAMS are like. Yeah. I don’t sleep much. And as soon as I finish my cheesecake, I’m going to bed.

“… wonder how long I can make it last?”

More words flowed from her fingers, and she was fairly certain her brain was decidedly not the entity controlling it, especially after reading the last bit.

“Oh, crud. I killed off Daddy?” She sighed in exasperation. “Oh well. It’s not like the timeline can be described as anything but fluid! I honestly have no idea how long the gods have been myth & legend for the Norse - or if they’ve gotten there - for the bunny’s decision on Daddy.”

She coughed. “Ah, let’s just say I’m finally clued in, and it’s based off a Japanese movie I saw on Netflix. Or maybe it was Korean, I honestly don’t remember. No, I’m not telling. It will out itself eventually,” she informed the strange little people following the story. “Oh, and yes, I did write chapters 3, 4, & 5 all in one horribly psychotic episode. Now, all I need is internet to post ‘em. Guess it’s the library after work – no, gotta go grocery shopping? Crap. By the time I get online again, I’ll have twelve freaking chapters to post!!!!!”

(and if you’re wondering, six is being typed)


	7. 6

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … Goenma. I think that’s how it was spelled.

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal.

Ficcage:

Who are we? Where are we? WTF is going on???? Cheesecake?

Loki sat up sharply, gasping and grasping at his chest. He made a mental note to never visit that particular mind again, and settled nervously back down to try and sleep some more. But he was rather traumatized now, and not able to close his eyes long enough to sink back into the embrace of sleep, much less the depth of dreams.

He sat up with a weary sigh, and pushed the blankets to his hips. Slowly, he worked his legs out from under their warmth, and winced as his feet touched the stone floor. One of these days, he was going to have to get a fur to spread beside the bed.

Loki shoved himself to his feet and strode nude to the window. It was, he judged, lacking only an hour or so before sunrise. He sighed, resting his forehead against the cool panes of glass, and headed for the bathing chamber. Perhaps another bath might help him relax again.

He was marginally more composed when he pulled his pruning body from the water his magic had kept heated. Loki wrapped a towel loosely around his hips, and went to see if he had anything in his wardrobe that had not been there yesterday. Naturally, there was not.

He chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully before deciding on the cream leathers over the brown and black, paired with the… oh, yes. Did he have any shirts that were not green? A white one that might possibly be one of the nightshirts he never wore.

Loki pulled it out and looked at it thoughtfully before yanking it over his head. It fell to mid-thigh, and the sleeves fell past the end of his fingers, and billowed. He shrugged, and pulled the pants on under it, belting them securely over narrow hips. A wider woven belt tied just above his waist served to secure the shirt, and provide a place for some of his daggers. Others went into the sheaths on his arms and in the tall boots he pulled on next.

He studied his reflection, and decided he looked rather like a Cetran child playing dress-up with the parents’ clothing. Loki smirked as he brushed and carefully styled his hair. He fastened his cloak in place, which only emphasized the idea of a Cetran child in his mind, and strode out of his room to the dining hall for breakfast. It was one of the few times of day he would be able to interact with his sons.

The interactions were rarely as pleasant as he would like. Both boys were men grown now, and neither had much use for their father. Loki loved them desperately, however, just as he did all his children. Today consisted of “Pass the milk, Father,”, “Thank you,”, and learning that the two planned a hunting trip with Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. He was unsurprised to be excluded, and slipped into the shadow ways on his way back to his chambers.

“Fenrir?” he called softly as he stepped from them, automatically cloaking himself and his son from Heimdell’s sight. A vicious snarl answered him. “I have learned why you are treated so badly, my son.” The snarling did not abate, but Loki told his wolf-son of the prophecy he had read.

A guttural growl answered. “And why should I allow myself be killed just because those daft women say so?”

“I see no reason why you must,” Loki answered quietly. “I certainly do not wish to rush into something that has been foretold to ensure my doom. I can think of only one reason why I would.”

“Why?”

“To protect or rescue one of my children,” Loki answered simply.

A huge head butted his stomach. “You are foolish to care for such monsters as we, Father,” the wolf growled.

“No. I am a father, and I love all my children equally, no matter what they look like,” Loki replied. “Perhaps one day you will know what it is to have children to love.”

“And how is that likely to happen?” the wolf snarled. Metal clanked as the chain securing him moved. “I am bound. Imprisoned! And I’m starving! I would more likely eat a female than mate her right now!”

“I should have thought to bring you something. Give me just a moment.” Loki concentrated, and was able to procure an entire roasted pig for his son. “Here, this should ease your hunger.”

If his son thanked him, Loki could not tell through the mouthful of meat that clogged the wolf’s mouth. “Perhaps instead of Ragnarok, I will take you to another realm,” Loki said suddenly.

“Eh?” Fenrir cocked his head momentarily, and then ripped another chunk of meat from his meal.

“I have two other children, hidden safely away in a realm and time I cannot seem to find. When I do, perhaps rather than start Ragnarok, I shall simply take all of my children to that place.”

“Nari and Vali?” Fenrir growled.

Loki sighed. “Except them,” he said glumly. “They would not go unless by force.”

Fenrir cracked a bone, and eyed his father. “Should you find it, I will go.”

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

Jewel shook her head. “Yeah, right. Like he’s going to get out of that? And was that my mind that woke him up?”


	8. 7

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … Goenma. I think that’s how it was spelled.

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)

Ficcage:

Jenova traveled quickly, not wanting to be too long from the new village. He hoped to be able to bring back some fresh bloodlines, friends of the others perhaps, who had grown weary of their parents’ ways, or those who wanted the adventure of traveling so far. He flew when he could, able to move much more quickly through the air, so it took him a great deal less time to return to the Ancient City than it had for he and his friends to travel to the site of their new home.

To his surprise, the city was abandoned. The Ancient City had never been fully emptied during his childhood, though it hadn’t been uncommon for there to be a great many people ever moving in and out as the tribes came to visit. The Keepers of the Planet had always remained behind to tend the pool, sing the hymns, and care for the tribes.

He walked the empty streets, uncertain and cautious, looking into various homes that had once housed the Keepers or his adoptive family members. All showed signs of too-hasty packing, and some even had moldy food still sitting on the tables. What had happened after he had been forced to flee?

Jenova came to his own shell home at last. It alone appeared to be untouched. His sister’s toys were still where she had left them, and on the stove, the meal his adoptive mother had been preparing for their return had burnt to a crisp. His mother’s bed was unmade, blankets strewn half-way across the room towards the chest in which he kept his few clothes. Jenova could not help the fond smile when he saw that. The Lord Loki almost never managed to get out of bed without taking most of the bedclothes with him.

His own room was equally untouched, and he grimaced a bit at how messy he had left it. Automatically, he began setting it to rights, cataloguing his old things and considering their use in the new village. Clearly, with the Ancient City emptied as it was, he had his pick of any and all supplies he could find.

The only question was how he could transport them. He was ridiculously strong, yes, and grew fatigued less often or as quickly as his friends, but just how much could he carry and still fly? How much could he pull if he were to walk, and if he did that, how would he get across the oceans?

Well, first he would have to determine exactly what was available, and how useful it would actually be for his community. He should also probably gather everything useful into a central location; probably at the temple, since it was the largest building and he would be salvaging what he could from every house. Jenova found he did not care for that idea however, and threw himself on his bed to stare up at the familiar ceiling to determine what he should do, what he should take, and what he should simply ignore.

Medicines were a definite must. They had not thought at all when they had banded together to leave, and had only a very few that came from the plants Shin-Ra had found to be useful. Any foodstuffs would also be a boon. Cooking utensils, pots, pans – those would definitely help. Toys for the children, as well, and books to help develop their minds even more. Material, threads, needles, and pins would be a definite help.

Perhaps there might be art supplies, or feed for animals. Perhaps he might be extremely lucky, and find some animals roaming wild. They had taken only their own personal beasts, save Jenova and Loche, so their herds and flocks were regrettably small. A chocobo or two from this area would certainly improve the strains of those in their new home! Jenova rubbed at his nose as he contemplated the weaker birds of the plains near their home.

He sighed and shifted, snuggling into the pillow, only to sit up and bat at it furiously to remove some of the dust. He would get busy gathering what useful things were left once he’d had a nap and a meal, and figure out how to get it back once he knew what he had.

It took him most of the month to work his way through every house of the abandoned city, and another month to thoroughly explore the Temple. He spent several days watching the scenes on the memory water, unable to make any sense of them for the longest time. He was depicted on them, shown slaughtering the priests and residents alike with abandon. Yet, he had been leading his new village two continents away!

He puzzled over the mystery as he watched, and finally came to the conclusion that he must have his mother’s ability to travel through time. He was, after all, much more blue than he usually allowed, and definitely female, and…. His hand drifted to one of the strange knobs his mother had not been able to explain to him. Tentacles, he most certainly did not have.

The question was, why? Why would he change so dramatically? Why would he shift from his preferred form to the intensely alien female form? Why would he attack and kill so many? Why would he go back in time to perform these atrocities? Why had he apparently lost his mind?

The questions plagued him, so he removed the key and dropped it into a deep mountain pool, murmuring his wish that it not become available until his children needed it. The young god had no idea he had performed his first spell, or how very long it would be before the key once again saw the light of day.

At last, he gathered everything of use into abandoned wagons he had needed to repair. He hooked them together, and began the tedious process of pulling them home – a process made easier three days later when he caught two fine chocobos.

He rode in the wagons then, and studied the book his mother had left behind. Was the source of his unease and his future insanity mentioned within its pages? Jenova could only hope so, that he might try to soothe the first and prevent the second.

He met some of the tribes as he traveled, sometimes greeting them in his male form and others in his female form, but always as his brothers and sisters. He would trade with them, lesser trinkets he had kept on a whim for more foodstuff and medicines. 

The poor boy had no idea why the Ancient City had truly been abandoned or of the plague he unwittingly spread.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, YOU WANT TO CHANGE MORTAL DADDIES??????!!!!!” the dismayed authoress demanded angrily. “I just got used to what’s-his-face being the daddy! And he’s been killed off any… – too NOBLE?????”

She looked around for a weapon, and was forced to resort to throwing used snot rags at the plot bunny. “SEPHIROTH WAS PERFECTLY NOBLE UP UNTIL HIS FATHER MADE HIM GO BATSHIT INSANE!” Slight pause. “AND JENOVA’S OBVIOUSLY CONSIDERED A SANE, HONORABLE LEADER BY HIS FRIENDS!” She had a coughing hacking fit brought on by the force of her objection, and was able to throw a freshly used snot rag at the evil creature.

She spent a moment glaring at her grammar checker as well, because “him and his friends” simply did not sound grammar-correct to her ears, though “had for he to travel” didn’t either, and left it “he and his friends” because her test of “It was he who had done it. It was him. It was Jenova. It was him who had done it.” indicated she could anyhow, because English grammar is a horrible thing that sometimes makes no sense. She also would like the grammar Nazis reading this particular paragraph to refer to the first paragraph of the story, and explain why the grammar checker insists “him” goes there instead of “he”. (They can also explain why the final it in the test is supposed to be capitalized, if they wish.)


	9. 8

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)

Ficcage:

Sometimes, Jenova mentioned that he was returning to a tribe that had chosen to make a permanent settlement, and that they were looking for additional brothers and sisters willing to join them. There were few recruits. Most tribes did not care for permanent settlements, and tribe members rarely left their people for anything but marriage into another tribe. Jenova did not offer marriage, only a long trip with a permanent settlement at its end.

One particular tribe caught his attention, however, as it had a great number of elderly women and few trained adults. He frowned, watching them from his hiding place for nearly an hour before returning to his wagon train, and the very young, very pregnant teen who had followed him from his last encounter.

“Jayla, there is a tribe camped nearby. I had intended to go trade, but something strikes me as strange about them.” The girl looked up attentively. “There are few adults to be seen, but a great many children. Most of the adults I did see are old women.”

“The Destroyed Tribe,” she said immediately. “They were once the keepers of the Sacred City, before the Calamity came.”

“The Calamity? My village is far from here, Jayla. We know of nothing called a Calamity.” Jenova frowned. He had recognized none of the faces of the adults or elderly he had seen.

“I don’t know much. There was… a war of some sort. Most of the adults were killed by an Odin summon.” Jenova stiffened. “That much, my people learned from the survivors. They were left with a lot of elders and children, and then some kind of monster attacked what was left of them a few months ago. The Sacred City was declared cursed, and they abandoned it. No one wants to marry into the Destroyed Tribe, but they marry into other tribes.”

“I see.” Jenova frowned. “Gather our beasts, and ready the wagons for travel. I will have you take the wagons on while I speak with them. There is something to that story that I do not like, and I like less the look of the camp. I do not want to remain near it.”

“Okay.” She waddled off to begin gathering in their beasts. Jenova began hitching chocobos to the wagons, and checking the chains that bound one wagon to the next as he went. When everything was ready and secure, he helped her into the lead wagon.

“Head south,” he instructed. “The ocean lies that way, and it is to the ocean that we travel. Travel quickly. Do not stop to camp until the sun is well down on the horizon.”

“Alright,” she agreed, and started the chocobos. Jenova watched her go, waiting until the train was well on its way before turning to go investigate the Destroyed Tribe.

He stopped where he had studied them before, noting that little had changed. A few more women were visible now, and some men had returned from what appeared to have been a successful hunt. Jenova took a deep breath, and started for them, studying faces as he advanced. Still, he saw no one he recognized. A quick glance at his arm confirmed he was a typical tanned Cetra, rather than his natural blue. He walked forward boldly after that.

“Hail the camp!” he called when it became clear no one had noticed him. The last thing he expected was the arrows pointed at him, or the readied materia. He erected a shield only just in time. “What are you doing? I came peacefully!” he yelled when the barrage ended.

“No Cetra travels alone!” one of the males called.

“Nor do I, but your camp seemed strange, and so I approached alone!” Jenova called back. “Where are your children’s minders and teachers?”

“We are the Destroyed Tribe,” one of the women called. Jenova double-checked to ensure his clothes were on and properly fastened after the look she gave him. “Come on. These idiots won’t shoot at you again.”

“I should hope not,” Jenova snarled quietly, but continued on anyway.

“No’a?” one of the teenage boys gasped. “No’a? Is that you? I thought… we all thought you dead!”

Jenova looked at him sharply. “Kivist?” The teenager slammed into his chest, laughing in relief and crying with joy.

“You’re alive!”

“Yes, I am alive.”

“How? Father… everyone was…”

“Nearly everyone died. Tayla, Zeneal, and Loche survived the Odin attack as well, but…” Jenova shook his head. “I watched our people turn on them. I caught Loche up before they killed her as well, and fled. Some of my friends joined us, and we have made our own village many days travel from here.”

Jenova had deliberately kept his voice low. The teen looked up. “Is my brother with them, No’a? Is Miklain still alive?”

“Miklain is among us. I have come to gather some of the things we forgot, and to see if there are those among the traveling tribes who would like to join a permanent village.”

“I’ll pack our stuff. I’m going with you, and so are my sisters.” Kivist cast a baleful look at the watching adults. “I’m not staying with them any longer than I have to!”

“I recognize none of them.”

“You wouldn’t. They came to the Ancient City after the Odin attack, and took over.”

“There was another attack, I was told.”

“Uh, yeah. You. In girl form,” Kivist told him. “You killed a lot of the people who had come in and taken over, the ones that made a mockery of the Ancient City’s traditions and ceremonies. Don’t you remember?”

“For me, it has yet to happen. I am the son of the Lord Loki, one who traveled through both time and space. I have not yet learned those arts, but it seems I must,” Jenova said softly. “Now, go and pack. Gather your sisters, and any others who were once those of the Ancient City who would leave these people. Go over the hillside to your left. You will find the tracks of the wagons. Follow them.”

“Okay.” Kivist gave him another tight hug, and headed for the nearest group of teens.

“Noah. An interesting name,” the same woman who had invited him closer spoke.

“It is one easy for a child to say,” Jenova replied simply as he drew closer to the fire. “I have heard a tale or two of the Destroyed Tribe, but I do not recognize you from my last visit to the city you once called home.”

The woman’s jaw set. “I am Racchel. My husband and I moved to that wretched place three months before the monster attacked and destroyed it – and killed my husband.”

“When was this?”

“Six months ago.”

Six months ago, he had gotten the first touch of that foreboding feeling. Perhaps he had reacted to being in the same time in more than one body. Jenova plastered a falsely sympathetic smile in place. “My condolences, Racchel.”

“They are appreciated. Do you join us for our evening meal?”

Jenova shot a quick glance around, noting now how very thin the children were, and how they eyed the meat now roasting over the flames. “No. I will catch up with my tribe and join them for our evening meal.”

“A pity,” she said. “What news do you bring?”

So began an exchange of news, though there was little of import given on either side. Jenova kept track of Kivist, noting how many of the children he spoke to, and how many of their eyes lit up as they slipped from their places around the fire. He also noted how many of them slipped from the camp carrying small bundles – very small bundles. He would have a great many more teens and children, it seemed, hungry ones possessing little more than a change of clothes and perhaps a crudely-hewn stone knife.

The plumper children, Kivist did not approach. Those, then, were the children of the interlopers. Apparently, the elders were also interlopers, for when Kivist finally left, with three younger girls in tow, he had spoken to none of them. Jenova lingered for some time more, and then smiled as he shot a look at the sun. “It has been a pleasant interlude, but I fear I must follow on the path of my tribe, or miss my supper,” he said pleasantly as he rose.

“Are they far from here?” one of the men asked.

“I should rather think so. I have dallied for several hours, and they do not make camp until near sundown,” Jenova replied with an easy-going smile even as he readied his magic. “The chocobos will have taken them much further than I can walk, and so I will need to run in order to catch up.”

The dagger bounced off his shield, and Jenova retaliated with a dagger of his own, slitting the man’s throat. “How very unpleasant an end of such a banal visitation,” he said coolly, and planted a second dagger in another man’s chest. “My people are warriors, not hunters. You are ill-suited to fight me.”

An arrow whistling towards his face was his answer. Jenova caught it and used it to disdainfully sweep the next three aside, though none would have penetrated the magic surrounding him. “As you wish,” he said, and released a bolt of lightning at the largest concentration of adults. They went down, shrieking.

“Truly, you are idiots to attack me,” he said. “You are ill-trained, ill-armored, and ill-suited for warfare.” A low-level blast of fire took down another foolish attacker, and a spear of ice fastened another to one of their wagons. “You dare challenge Jenova with such pathetic skill?”

“Jenova was the monster that destroyed my home!” Racchel shrieked.

“More likely, she simply ran you out of hers,” Jenova retorted. “Jenova was born and raised in the Ancient City, and left it when he was seventeen. Now, I suggest you do not follow me, for you fare poorly against the weakest of my magics. Bother me more, and I will destroy what is left of your tribe… though I may spare the children and elders.”

She shrieked and flew at him, clawing at his face. He threw her off in time to keep her from becoming a pincushion, swept the arrows aside, and called on the magic at his disposal to rain meteorites on the camp. Some of the children and elderly would die from it, unfortunately, but Jenova did not particularly care at that point.

He turned his back on the smoldering remains of the camp and its survivors, and began to walk away. This time, he was not attacked, and continued back the way he had come unimpeded. He collected the children and teens that had started out before him as he went, soon confirming that they truly had less than he had expected.  
________________________________________

Jenova got stuck at the ocean. The chocobos he had captured during his travels could not walk on the ocean, as some he had seen. He spent the better part of a week traveling along the coast before he found what he was pretty sure was the narrowest span of water between the continents, magicked the wagons to float, stuck the animals and children in them, and hauled them across the hard way.

He was utterly exhausted by the time he made it to shore, and still had another stretch of ocean to cross once they made it to the right side of this particular continent. He opted to harness what chocobos he had, since he needed to get his prizes away from the beach so that the saltwater would not ruin more than it already had. The youngest children stayed in the wagons, the younger ones drove them, and the eldest herded the beasts leisurely along so they could graze as they traveled.

Jenova decided to take a nap in the lead wagon after giving Jayla traveling instructions. He made up a bed in the back of it, and soon fell asleep. He woke up to a purring kitten kneading his hip, and another one curled against his belly. They felt small. The female he saw when he opened his eyes had to be their mother – and she was definitely not small. He blinked, looked beyond her, and saw only the back of the wagon.

Jenova frowned slightly. The female had kittens, therefore, she probably had a mate. Where was it? He extended his senses slowly, as his father had been teaching him – something he clearly needed to get back to practicing – and searched for it, but found nothing aside from the three, the children, and his own beasts within the limits of his…

Why were there Caul kittens on him, anyway? They call me the Mother of Monsters. His mother had said that once, had written it into his book. Oh. Oh no. No. No. Surely not. It could not possibly… could it? “Are you… my siblings?” he whispered in near horror.

The female rose and slunk over to him, licking his face. Another thought came to him, one that made him collapse back onto the bed while staring up at her. He had gone back in time, if the memory waters were to be believed. He had gone back as a tentacled female, one apparently insane with rage and grief. What if… what if… he had… and she was… or they were…

Jenova shoved the thought rather firmly aside. Not possible. Unlike his mother, he could not shapeshift into anything but male or female. He was not the mother, or father, of these creatures. He was not! This decided, and under a mantra of mental reinforcement, Jenova shoved up off the bed, dislodging the kittens, and looked for the children he had collected.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. She, um… sorta made a nest of you, and growled at anyone who came close,” Jayla said from her perch at the front of the wagon. “It was while we were stopped for lunch. Um, we just decided to keep going, since you seemed to want to get home as quickly as you could, and she was calm as long as no one else got close.”

Jenova groaned, and laid back down. The kittens promptly made themselves comfortable once more, taking advantage of his new position to curl up together on his belly. Their mother stretched out and rested her head on his hip. “It is an odd occurrence. Shin-Ra will be able to make sense of it should she remain with us so long as to reach him,” Jenova replied with a sigh. “Ensure you do not feed her. She can do her own hunting.”

“That’s fine. Are those mountains in the distance?”

Jenova sat up again, dumped the kittens on their mother, and crawled over the things in the wagon to peer into the distance. “They are. I had not expected to see them so soon. It was several weeks after we crossed the ocean that we first saw them.”

“Did you have chocobos?”

“No, we gained no chocobos until after we established our village. But despite the chocobos, Jayla, we still have herds and people traveling afoot. Are you certain you have traveled in the right direction?”

“Yes, see, the sun’s there.” She pointed. “You told me to keep it mostly to my right after noon, and mostly to my left before noon.”

“Did I?” Jenova rubbed at his brow. “I’ll be but a moment.” His wings flashed, and he shot into the air. High above the caravan, he studied the area. “She did not ‘mostly’ enough,” he muttered at last, and flew back down.

Jayla gave him an anxious look. “Turn right. Sharply,” he added, “for you are a good distance off from where we should be.” She turned the chocobos. “I go to hunt. There is a herd of creatures nearby good to eat, but very dangerous to be near. They are also in our way, so you will find me waiting with a meal when you arrive where you should be.”

He shot skyward again, and watched as the chocobos below began to angle in the proper direction as Jayla sent them to follow his flight path. Jenova nodded in satisfaction, and winged his way towards their supper.  
________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child.   
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by an again unknown mortal of uncertain origin.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

The authoress looks out at the readers. “Have I mentioned hating the plot bunny for this yet? I do. Just so you know. I’ve been stuck at sentence 2 of paragraph 2 for… is it a couple months yet now? I suppose it doesn’t matter, since I’ve no net at home most of the time anyway, and I’m actually more interested in getting ready to go to Ahn!-Con… and in reading FrostIron ficcage.

“Uh, no. Tony is definitely not the father. That much, I’m sure of. Wrong time period. Like, centuries early. And utterly the wrong continent and race, too. *ponders this* Apparently, the evil plot bunny has decided that Jenova’s daddy is going to remain of ancient Japanese origin. Just not… the original mortal I thought was gonna be.” She very carefully does not pull out her hair.

“Oh, and for those going: foodstuffs? Foodstuffs? They’ll spoil before he gets there! – uh, no, these are the living and seed versions of foodstuffs, if that doesn’t show up in the chapter someplace, which since I’m still staring at that second paragraph, might not. Wait! I think a third sentence is… pathetic, but arriving!” Authoress begins to edit some of the previous paragraph to allow for the new idea.

Then, on paragraph four, horror overwhelms her. She whirls on a maniacally cackling plot bunny. “WE ARE NOT USING SAMARI JACK FOR JENOVA’S FATHER!” she screams, and goes into hiding until it comes up with a better idea – or goes back to the mortal it already killed off. That particular warrior makes much much much more sense.

Authoress is ordered to rewrite part of seven, then cut the rewrite and paste it to the top of 8 instead. She checks, and concludes she does not have enough chocolate to write this fic. She continues writing anyway, because there is a worse plot bunny threatening to bite her. Besides, it fills up what would have been a plot hole.


	10. 9

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)

Ficcage:

Loki pushed his scrolls away in disgust. They were of no use to him. Why had he not paid more attention to where he was going, or where he had come from? Why was it he could not remember the alignment of the stars in that place he had taken his child, and sired another? He had studied them, after all. He had taught Jenova how to travel by the stars.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Yes, he had taught Jenova how to travel, and how to make a map of the stars. One hand raised. The Ancient City had been here, and above it, the brightest of the stars in the constellation they called Genesis, and from which they claimed their race was born. Genesis looked like so, and was drawn thusly, to resemble a warrior with a drawn sword.

The sword had pointed at the lightest star in the constellation Ragnarok, whose name invariably made Loki shudder. It was drawn so, and resembled a great mushroom. The Cetra had said it was an explosion, but Loki always considered it a ripple-edged mushroom. The cap of the mushroom had been just below the constellation known as Pedestal of the Goddess. It was drawn from star to star as so, and made a strange base for the Seven Stars of the Goddess, a constellation within the Pedestal of the Goddess.

Loki still was not sure why the Cetra had overlapped the two constellations, and he did not care. His hand moved, tracing out the Seven Stars, his magic standing in the air to form the stars. Loki drew in a slow breath, and opened his eyes. The magic remained, showing him the constellations he remembered. He fixed them in his mind, and stepped through a tear in the fabric of the universe.

This was the world he remembered, but not all was as it should be. Loki turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint what was wrong. There was the City, but there were no lights though the sun was well set. Loki frowned, and started for the city. He realized it was in ruins by the time he reached it, but still he moved from one broken house to another, calling the names of those Odin had not killed.

He came to his own house, and hurried to look for his journal. It was gone. In its place was a note.

Father –

It has been ten years since Odin came. Loche and I moved on immediately, settling a new permanent village with some of my friends. We call it Midgar, after one of the realms in your stories.

Something came upon me a few months ago, something unsettling yet unexplainable. Shin-Ra conversed with the Planet, but was unable to aid except to tell me that she does not believe the trouble originates from her people. I feared this meant Grandfather, and came for your journal.

Father, I viewed the memory water to see why the Ancient City was abandoned. It showed me myself, as a purely blue tentacled female, attacking the residents here. I appear to be insane with both grief and rage, but I have no idea why. I was in Midgar when the attack happened, and can only surmise that I will learn your ability to move through both time and space – and lose my reason. I have hidden the Key within the ocean until such time as my family has need of it – though I have yet to sire or bear a child.

I travel back to Midgar now with those things I found to salvage from this place. I intend to trade goods for seeds and animals as I go, and offer a place within our village to those who are interested. To find the village, travel south until you reach the ocean. Cross it, and continue south until you reach a river. Once across it, travel one day south and turn to the east. Continue east until you reach the next ocean, and cross it. If you angle in a southwesterly direction, you will come to a mountain range. Our home is on the other side of it, easily seen from the cliff that serves as one of our boundaries. You will also see the ocean, which serves as a second boundary. Our village lies about half-way between the two.

I hope to be able to see you again, Father.

I love you – Jenova

Loki folded the letter carefully, and placed it in his magical null space for safekeeping. He would go to this Midgar his child had founded, and see if he could discover just how much time had passed. Still, at least now he had the right realm! Heartened, Loki set out for Midgar, following his son’s instructions.

The land had changed. He noted that the moment he entered the forest that surrounded the city. It was eerily still, and reeked of old magics. Loki let a tendril of his own loose, testing the magics, and found them set to protect the ruins of the city.

________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child.   
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by an again unknown mortal of uncertain origin.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:


	11. 10

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)

Ficcage:

Jenova had two of the five beasts roasting over spits when Jayla and the others arrived. The three others he had suspended high in a tree, out of the reach of any predators, though he doubts any will come near the wagon train, especially with the chocobos on guard. He gave the Caul mother a dirty look, and pointed. “I suppose you can make yourself useful by cleaning up the entrails,” he said sourly. She butted her head against his hand and slunk off, kittens tumbling along at her heels.

Kivist chuckled. “She will be useful if she will guard as well, No’a, and we can certainly train the kittens.”

“Kivist? She’s a cat. Cats do what they want.”

“Well… still. We could try.”

“Shut up. Do you know how to make drying racks? There seems to be a good deal of game in the area, and the stream is full of fish. We can replenish our meat stores and allow the children some time to rest, heal, and recover. I would also have a fuller accounting of what happened after the Odin attack.”

“If you’ll show me, I can make some, sure. I’d be of more use catching fish, though.”

Jenova sighed. “Gather up the children. This is something all of you need to learn.”

Jenova wound up teaching the children a great many things – including how to deliver a baby – during the four months they remained camped there. They had had no training at all in much of anything. Jenova found it less surprising that he had decimated the adult population when he went back in time after hearing the oldest children’s recounting of their lives after the Odin attack and before his.

He frowned, reviewing all that he had been told. “Do none of you know why I came,” he asked that night, “or why it was that I was so angry and grieved?”

Most of them demurred, but two of the oldest, both of them seventeen, looked more thoughtful. “Aeria? Lexine?”

“You weren’t really angry,” Aeria said slowly, “but you were really, really upset. It had something to do with Loche, I think, because I remember that you were crying her name.”

“Not Loche,” Lexine objected. “And not Loki either, but something very close to both.” The boy frowned, brows furrowing deeply as he tried to remember. “Luka?”

“Luka?” Jenova repeated. Luka was Rala and Faladin’s eldest daughter, a girl of nine who delighted in annoying him. “I cannot see why I would be grieved if something happened to that little pest, especially not to the point of destroying my former home.”

“It wasn’t Luka! It was definitely a Lo something. But not Loche or Loki. Lova? Lona? There was an a on the end.”

“It was Laufey.” Kivist tossed a twig into the fire. “Laufey, not Lofey.”

“Laufey! That was it!”

“Laufey? That name is familiar, but… ah! He is one of the kings in Father’s stories! Of the realm of ice and snow, Jotunheim!” Jenova exclaimed. “I wonder what he has to do with my grief, though? I suppose I must wait to find out. We will finish drying up this last bit of fish, and resume our journey at the end of the week.”

Kivist spent the rest of the week helping Jenova check the wagons and their contents, confirming that there was nothing spoiled among the stores, and that all the wagons were sound. Jayla was up and around again for brief periods of time, but so much of her time was required for her infant that Jenova began training some of the younger children to drive the chocobos. They were capable, if not competent, by the time it was time to move on.

Jenova had captured and trained more chocobos during their rest, and now had enough to hitch two birds to each wagon. None of them were particularly fantastic birds. Indeed, most of them were barely average, and four of them were positively pathetic. Still, even they would be useful, so they had been trained as well. Jenova hitched them to the last two carts, and put of the older children in charge of driving them.

The herds would travel between the wagons, and the flocks in cages on their sides. Jenova checked all the wagons carefully, and eyed the Caul and her kittens with jaundiced eyes when he realized they had commandeered his bed yet again. “I’m going to be really upset if I find you are indeed my sibling,” he hissed at the cat, who yawned in his face. Jenova sighed, and took his seat on the lead wagon.

Their journey continued. Jenova continued to range the skies above them, looking for game and good places to camp. Often, they had to pause for an animal to give birth, less often for one of the teenaged girls he had collected to do the same. It had been made clear to him that the men of the Destroyed Tribe had ill-used the female children, and a good many of the boys as well.

The passage through the mountains ended in a winter camp at the base of one particularly rich in magic. Jenova dipped his fingers into the pool of living magic above the place they camped, listening as hard as he could for the voice of the Planet. It was something he had never heard. Shin-Ra had told him he thought it because he was born of another world. Jenova sighed, replenishing his magic with that which flowed so richly in this place, and continuing back down the mountain with the meat he had garnered.

“What… is that?” Kivist asked him.

“A dragon, like unto those of the far north beyond the Sacred City.” Jenova dropped his burden in the middle of the clearing, and landed lightly beside it. “It should feed us for most of the winter, and provide some clothing if the hide is at all useable.”

“No’a, some of us have… well, with all the babies we’re going to have come spring, and the little ones that will be toddling… we’ve thought about just staying here. We’ve built sturdy homes to protect us through the winter, and we’ll know the area and its beasts soon enough.”

Jenova nodded thoughtfully. “It is a good place. The magic here is strong, and the Planet will be able to speak easily with the Cetra. The game… is plentiful, but much of it is very dangerous. You will need to master a great deal of magic if you are going to stay here, and you will have to have a well, or a water tower. Perhaps both, as we have now in Midgar.”

“You don’t sound all that surprised.”

“I hear better than you think, and have heard some of the discussions before the subjects are hastily changed when my presence is noted. I agree that traveling with so many of such tender ages would be awkward. I expect, from what they have said, that the Destroyed Tribe tended to stay in one place much longer than other tribes.”

“Yeah. They’d stay until an area was entirely hunted out and there wasn’t even much grass for the little stock we had. Those people, they weren’t much good at farming, either. They ruined more crops than they raised. I know… I know you want to get back to your village, but could… can you stay long enough to help establish this one?”

“I will think on this. I expected to be gone no more than three years, and already one of those has entirely passed.” Jenova looked at the clouds, which threatened even more snow. “I do not wish to be later than I must. Give me a week to consider what must be taught for you to survive, and to estimate how long it will take me to return to my home.”

“Okay. I’ve not decided whether to stay or go on. I want to see my brother, but… well… my sister had one of the babies, and she’s staying.”

“There will also need to be level-headed men to lead the community,” Jenova said solemnly. “You are one who would do well at leading, for you are able to both think through a situation, and react quickly and well in emergencies. Think on this while I consider how long I may safely stay.”

Jenova left the boys to do the majority of the butchering after he took what he needed for his small family. Jayla and her son, Mellon; a set of very young siblings aged two, four, and five: sisters Mia and Tasha, their brother Tivin; and a very shy twelve year old boy, Seraph, compromised his young household. Jenova knew they would continue the journey with him.

The rest of the children could very well all stay behind, as most were siblings or cousins to each other. His only older family would probably continue on, for they already complained dreadfully about the miserable cold of these mountains. They had been from one of the southernmost tribes he had met after the meeting of the Destroyed Tribe, and disliked the snow intensely.

Jenova sighed as he pushed open the door of his house. “Jayla! I’ve some dragon meat and our share of the hide,” he called.

“Kitchen!” She eyed him shrewdly as he deposited his share of his hunt on the table that Seraph hastily cleared. “They talked to you about staying.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Jenova shrugged. “There are supplies enough to divide, and these homes are sturdy. It is a good place for a village, strong in magic, though not so strong as the Sacred City was. It will make a good home for those who choose to stay.”

“I thought you’d try to argue them out of it.”

“No. I remember talking to visiting tribes about their travels. It was always very difficult when many were pregnant or nursing, and we had trouble enough just getting here. I would not risk the children or their mothers. If they wish to stay, and there are enough older boys staying to provide for them, I will not argue. It is simply a matter of how long I can stay and teach them before we must continue on so that I may return home on time.”

“I’ll get you a list of who is staying and what they know, then,” Jayla informed him. “You can teach the older boys how to hunt… dragons? You went and killed a dragon on your own?”

Jenova grinned at her. “It was horrifyingly easy. You know how stupidly strong I am.”

Hands went to hips. “Jenova Lokischilde! Don’t you even give me that!”

He waved his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t hunting it on purpose. I was exploring those caves as potential storage units. It kinda objected.”

She threw a breadroll at him.

________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child.   
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by an again unknown mortal of uncertain origin.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

Jewel spends some time reviewing chapter nine, frowning at the blank space where the author creative process has been left blank. “Lovely. I don’t remember if I posted 9 or not, and I can’t get online to check. Go figure. Wellllll, fine. Chapter 10 it is.” Gives bunny a glare. “Come near me with that Samurai Jack thing again, and I’ll sic my talkative kid on you.” She is gratified when it is sensible enough to flee in terror.

She is then forced to go look for her elder son’s dirty socks when it peers out from its hiding place and suggests Naruto. “As freakin’ if! Can’t stand him!” she shrieks, and buries the bunny under a pile of dirty socks after shoving it facefirst into one of the kid’s shoes. She brushes her hands off in satisfaction. That bunny won’t be talking for awhile. The kid’s feet REEK. It’ll be weeks before the evil plot bunny can remember its original purpose.

“Okay, so. Loki is on the Planet, Jenova’s basically preparing to help found Nibelheim, the plague’s getting going good on the northernmost continent… Shin-Ra’s probably got things well in hand and we can’t use his pov anyhow… hm. Plague. Should that be hitting Jenova’s group, since he’s the one inadvertently spreading it? Or are the original City-dwellers immune? In which case, should – wait a sec. Jayla’s about to pop. Right. One baby due!”

Authoress is diverted by fudge budget brand poptart. When she comes back and starts writing, she wonders if the stink method of deterring a plot bunny was a good idea… then remembers there is a backspace key and a control x function for a reason. 

And she finally gets online, and discovers that chapter nine, indeed, was posted. Now, if her fanfiction.net folder would just load already!!!!... she’d be a much happier camper. (Ahn!-Con starts tomorrow!!!!!)

After Naka-Kon, to which authoress flatly refuses to return for the next umpity thousand or so years, FACT gets reviewed. Chapter ten receives some updating. Laufey’s involvement is declared completely beyond authoress’s comprehension. And then she looks at the clock, glares, and gets ready for work.

Then, upon getting ready to upload 10, discovers 9 is not, after all, uploaded. Tears out hair, and posts two chapters. And yes, 11 is being written.


	12. 11

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)  
________________________________________  
Ficcage:

Loki came across the winter camp four months later, just after a heavy snowstorm. He was well-bundled in a heavy cloak and warm furs, and welcomed into the first house he came across.

“I didn’t know there were any Cetra in this area,” the young woman who had let him in told him. “Which tribe are you from?”

“I am not Cetran,” he answered quietly. “I am Loki, and I –“

“Lord Loki?” she interrupted excitedly. “You are Jenova’s mother? Seraph, quickly! Find Jenova! Tell him his mother is here!”

A thin slip of a boy grabbed a fur from beside the door, and went out into the snow, only to return moments later with Jenova scolding him for going out. “Little is so important that – Mother?”

“Jenova.” Loki had an armful of well-grown son a moment later.

“Mother!” Jenova repeated the word several times before finally releasing his mother and stepping back to examine the man. He frowned. “You’ve grown thin, Mama.”

“It has been… unpleasant at home. I… I wish to bring your brothers and sisters here, now that I have found this realm and time again. I think they will be safe with you. Father knows nothing of this place, or of you and your sister.”

Jenova nodded. “I understand. But how will you keep him from finding us if you bring them here?”

“I… I don’t know. Or maybe I do,” Loki said softly. “I will bring Jor first, and make it seem as if the Midgardians have killed him. It will be easiest to slip him away from Heimdell’s sight, and Odin’s as well, since he is on Midgar. Your two eldest brothers will be much more difficult to extract… and your sister rules her own kingdom. I do not know if she will give it up or not. I have not asked.”

“Sit down and eat, Mama. We’ve plenty of dragon: the blasted things seem attracted to me, so I kill them rather frequently.”

“Dragon, hm? I remember it being rather sweet. Of course, that could have simply been how Tayla prepared it.”

“Maybe.” Jenova guided his mother to a seat, divesting him of the thick robe and several unnecessary fur garments as he did. “Did it take you long to find us, Mama?”

“I found your note when I returned here the first time, but I have had to return to Asgard frequently so as to hide my activities. It has taken me longer than I would have liked to make it this far. Here, I have traveled for a year, but in Asgard, fifteen years have passed. I must mark well in my mind the stars before I travel back, and the location where I left, that I may return with as little passage of time here as possible, yet have it seem that I am unconcerned with the passage of time and what happens on Midgard while in my own time on Asgard.”

Jenova took a moment to process that. “Mama, the memory fall showed me destroying the Sacred City. I thought I was angry, but those teens of this settlement who survived said that while I was very upset, I did not seem angry. They said I called the name Laufey, but the only Laufey I know is the Frost Giant king from your stories.”

“King Laufey?” Loki sampled the dragon meat placed before him, and smiled his approval as he thought. He sliced another piece, and shook his head as he finished chewing. “I can think of no reason why King Laufey of Jotunheim would cause you to become upset,” he said. “However, it is clear that you return to the past to destroy the city, so perhaps you have a child or lover by the name of Laufey in the future.”

“Why in the world would I name a child for a monster?” Jenova demanded. “Or perhaps… Mama, perhaps there is something we learn in the future… about Laufey… that causes my grief?”

Loki nodded, then shook his head. “No, you are far into the future, in a realm unknown by my father, though he came for me here the once. I do not think he recognized that we were in a realm so far from our own place and time, and he certainly did not recognize that I had children. I was… able to muddle his mind enough that he still believes he took me from Midgard, and my human lover.”

“Who is my father?” Jenova asked.

“Was. He was dead by the time I recovered from my discipline, and thought to tell him what had happened to his son. He was a Japanese warlord… shogun, I think was the term in their language. The problem with the All-tongue is that one does not actually learn a language. His name was… it was… was…”

Loki looked stricken, and the cutlery clattered to the table as his grip failed. “His name…” the dark-haired mage whispered. “I called him Naga-kun… but his name… it was… was… taken from me?” he ended, and buried his face in his hands. “Ever in my mind I called him Naga-kun, but… but it was not… not his name. Did Father take my lover’s name, when he… when…”

“Mother?” Jenova rose, wrapping his arms around his mother’s trembling shoulders.

“He found out I had been to Midgard as a woman again, though he knew not why I had gone,” Loki whispered. “It took me three days to recover from the spell he threw at me, but aside from three days of being miserably ill, I thought nothing had happened. But I cannot say your father’s name! I cannot… remember it. I remember only that I called him Naga-kun when we were alone together.”

“Naga-kun, a Japanese warlord,” Jenova repeated. “It is more than I have ever known, Mama, and it will suffice.”

“This is not where I expected to find you,” Loki said absently. “I am certain there is yet another ocean to cross.”

“There is, for my village,” Jenova assured him. “This is a winter camp, though many of those children from the Sacred City intend to make it their new home. My family will move on, as will the oldest of those who agreed to move to Midgar.”

“And what will they name this new town?” Loki asked absently.

“We call it Nibelheim, after another of the realms in the stories you used to tell me.”

“A realm?” Loki questioned. “I think you mean instead Niffelheim, which has recently come under your sister Hela’s rule.” Jenova nodded. Loki grimaced slightly. “Given the location, it is rather appropriate. Tell me all that has happened since I left, if you will.”

Jenova signaled to the family to gather round the table, and began to tell his mother of the aftermath of the Odin battle. The others joined in on occasion, but mostly Jenova spoke. When he had finished telling his mother what he planned to do before he moved on to his own village, Loki nodded slowly.

“I will help,” the young god declared.

________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child.   
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by an again unknown mortal of uncertain origin.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

Authoress manages to misspell Loki’s name three times before getting it right, sighs, throws on some deodorant, a shirt, and shoes, brushes (okay, combs) hair, and goes to work.

“Excuse me? LOKI doesn’t remember his lover’s name? And we’re blaming it on a spell that made him puke for three days straight? Don’t give me that innocent look!” Jewel glares at the plot bunny, throws her hands up, and decides to go to bed.

(Incidentally? Viewtiful Joe makes Kamen Rider, Sailor Moon, and the Power Rangers seem like wonderful shows to watch. It comes very close to making Barney palatable. Actually, I believe I will describe it as Barney for the 12-15 set… and give it to my youngest. I am NEVER watching that again by choice. In fact, it makes this bunny my very very very best friend, and we all know what I think of the bunny.)

Fixed the issues with the realm and the daddy’s name (I had it misspelled rather badly). And I suppose I ought to post this up because, basically, this chapter has been stuck at Loki’s declaration to help for too long.

Okay, and one more thing? Somebody leave me a review on this so I understand why you like this plot bunny so much!


	13. 12

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies makes me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)  
________________________________________  
Ficcage:

This is where we insert story. Really.

His mother had stayed as long as he had dared, which had not been nearly long enough for either of them. Jenova had watched his mother fix the stars in his mind, noting carefully how Loki had drawn them with his magic, over and over and over before turning to look at him.

“I dare stay no longer,” he had said.

“I know,” Jenova had answered, and watched his mother open a strange rift, and vanish through it.

He had investigated that area closely and carefully, both physically and magically, but had not been able to determine how his mother had opened the rift into time and space.

Jenova sighed, and turned his mind back to his task. His family, the elder couple’s family, and two of the other families had left Nibelheim two months before. The backs of two of their carts sported traveling gardens, but most of their food came from the hunting and gathering they did as they traveled. Jenova scanned the land below him, looking for a good place for the night’s camp, or some decent hunting.

He found a reasonable place for the camp, and confirmed that the stream was the one they would follow through the forest. Jenova landed on the wagon seat beside Jayla, smiling. “We have made better time than I expected.”

“We have?”

“Yes, the water we will camp by tonight is the same as the one our group followed when first I came this way.” He took the reins from her so she could tend her son. “Where is Seraph?”

“Misbon needed his help with the goats.”

Jenova nodded, and drove the chocobos to the stream. His attention was more on what his mother told him during his entirely too brief stay than on the terrain, but there are few dangers in this area, especially of the kind that would take on a caravan of the sort they make.

Indeed, the worst danger in this area was those irritating damned little frogs that kept shrinking people. Jenova scowled, remembering one particularly traumatic shrinking that had made his blond lover go on a frog-killing spree every time he saw one afterwards. Shin-Ra still couldn’t stand the sight or sound of frogs, and had ensured there were none of the things within several miles of their home.

So, he allowed his thoughts to stray. His mother had updated the journal, as well as quietly telling him more of the family from which he had hidden Jenova and Loche safely away. Jenova was quite certain that he would never, ever, ever use an Odin summon, and likely not a Ramuth, either. Of course, he never handled summons first. Those he found, he nudged onto silk with sticks, and wrapped before putting in a bag for someone else to check.

Their group had found twenty Odin summons. All of them were wrapped tightly in layers of silk, placed in wooden chests, and then repeated dunked into the molten metals of Faladin’s forge until they were too heavy for their pretty smith to lift for another dunking. Jenova then took the encased summons and dumped them in an ocean trench his magic indicated deep enough to keep the damned things contained.

The 32 Ramuth summons, they had kept wrapped in silk and placed in a single wooden chest. Rala said their electrical properties might prove useful later, as those of the Bolt materia were. She was still studying the things, so Jenova tended to avoid her workshop.

Jenova shuddered thinking of that place. Rala was a frightfully scary woman, but because of her, they were able to use materia for more than fighting or defending their home. Fire materia heated their barns and kept their ovens at steady temperatures because of her experiments. Ice materia kept their milk cold and their stored meats frozen. Bolt materia powered the wire fences they had put up; fences that both contained and protected the beasts within them. Water materia allowed them to have running water, and combined with Fire materia, they even had running hot water. Midgar had wells still, but most of their water came from the materia.

“Found a summon by the stream,” he said when she put Mellon back in his sling.

“Give it here.”

Jenova fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She turned it over and over a few times, frowning thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize this one,” she said at last. “It doesn’t feel… prickly. It almost… tickles?”

That, Jenova knew, meant it wasn’t Odin or Ramuth, for she had handled both of those several times. They had four of the first and three of the second in baskets in the cart. It meant, too, that it wasn’t Leviathan or Bahamut, the two he carried with him everywhere that she handled on a daily basis.

He took it back, barehanded now assured that it was not one of the two summons linked to his mother’s family, gave her the reins, and concentrated on the ball he held. It held light-hearted, playful spirits – two of them – with highly protective instincts, but without particularly great strength when compared to the ones he carried. He chuckled suddenly, and braided the summon into his hair with the others. “Choco Mog,” he said with a grin.

“What?”

“It contains the spirits of a chocobo and a moogle,” he said with another laugh. “I have never felt a summon so infected with… squealies.”

Jayla giggled at him. “Take them back to where you want us to camp and have them stomp out any of those nasty frogs,” she ordered when she got her breath back.

Jenova bowed, and shot into the sky. Jayla liked the creatures no better than Shin-Ra, but was a great deal more squeamish about them. Given that they miniaturized those they touched, he could not blame the two their hatred of the creatures, nor, considering the fact that children were so small already, did he fault Jayla for despising them. He sent Choco Mog after the first lot of the nasty things he saw, and learned the hard way that the Moogle’s contribution wasn’t always in the wielder’s favor.

Using Bahamat on the one that managed to mini him might, possibly, maybe, just a little, have been a tad of overkill. Innate magic had him back to his proper size before the dragon finished destroying the nasty little creature. Jenova had tasted its magic now, however, and wove the block – and counter – into his being so they could not get him again! He had done so with other status effects, and rarely now could be affected by any.

Maybe it was time to consider magicking an object with the blocks and counters so that his friends would be protected? Yep, probably, since it had crossed his mind. Rala would probably be the best to talk to about that, and Shin-Ra, too, to make sure that doing so wouldn’t piss off the planet.

Jenova dropped to the ground, fingers raking gently over the soil. “You dislike my origins, I know, and hate me for what I have yet to do,” he said quietly. “I know not why it is that I will destroy those who remained at the Sacred City, but at least I have saved a portion of your people, and provided them new homes. There is Midgar, and now Nibelheim, and if I am reading the signs right, there will be another settlement made before we reach the coast. Perhaps your people will not roam about so much as they did, but they will still be yours, Goddess Minerva.”

Somehow, he was not particularly surprised when a bird pooped on his head in reply.

________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child.   
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by an again unknown mortal of uncertain origin.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

Hey! 2014 is almost over! Today’s 11/2/2014. According to the notes, Jewel’s been working on this since 10/4/2014! *eyes date* Yeah, it’s been very slow. The bunny may have kinda sorta died. Maybe shouldn’t have shoved its head in the kid’s shoes. Then again, real life shouldn’t’ve handed out quite so many lemons of the non-fun variety. Let it be known that we still have not found sufficient sugar for making them palatable.

Also, for those who have not read it, book it over to Ao3 and read “Off the Line” by esama. Unless, of course, you can’t handle Cloud as a testy Viera male with a pet gunner named Vincent Valentine… and you cannot cope with crack. Oh, don’t worry, beloveds, he’s still his usual little spikey-headed self (pre-Hojo, mind), but the Viera part is to die for. Several times over. Now.

Jewel notes she still hasn’t got a clue about the Laufey thing. *pokes it with a taser* Huh. It didn’t move. That’s probably not a good sign. *glances at bunny corpse* That’s definitely not a good sign. Zombie plot bunny possibilities. Yeah, don’t want to – ohhhh! Wait! Lemme go grab it!

*grabs from Plot Bunny Attacks* Okay, so the zombie virus is apparently something every human carries. What happened to the vampires? If those turned before the virus took effect are unaffected, what happens when they try to turn someone, or make a fledge rather than a childe? What happens to a werewolf when it dies? Does being a witch/wizard provide any protection against having the virus or becoming infected? What about other shifters (Yes, you, with the Dragons and Chimeras, yours are included!)? Would demi-gods or gods fall prey to the virus? How about G’oulds? Jaffa? Asgardians (the gods or the little ET’s)? Any other race of the Nine Realms or Middle Earth? Demons? Angels? Oh, gods, Cas as a frigging Zombie, poor Dean (vice versa, too!)! Would any of the more advanced/magically inclined races be able to cure the virus?

There, now you understand part of why writing is impossible sometimes. Stuff like this pops up, and then there is the sitting back and staring at it, trying to figure out why this is to be figured out when there are x to the ynth started and stalled fics on the machine! Or just trying to figure out where in the hell it came from and such.

*stares at line that says “Ficcage” for a moment* Um…

6/5/2016. Oops. Forgot to post this. 13 is actually written and complete. I simply hate it with an ungodly passion and am waiting for the plot bunny (or better yet, Loki) to provide a better ending.


	14. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Loki nor the plot bunny provided a different ending.

IS NOT: Anyone who is fool enough to think I created Norse mythology or the glory that is Sephiroth is crazier than plot bunnies make me, and deserves to be horrendously pitied. Or Marvel-verse, for that matter. Or… whatever other verse that the eventual other parent gets pulled in from, and how about … ???

On the other hand, anyone who wants to help me pay for mental therapy is welcome to donate through Paypal. (Read the Author creative process if you think I don’t need it.)  
________________________________________  
Ficcage:

Gongaga and Costa del Sol were both behind him now, and his company much depleted. His household: Jayla and her son, Mellon; sisters Mia, aged four, and Tasha, six; their brother Tivin, seven; and the now fourteen year old boy, Seraph, remained with him along with Aeria, her daughter Milla; Lexine, her son Koz; and a very quiet, grim older widower, Kaze, and his four children: nineteen year old Cross, sixteen year old Amyth, twelve year old Masenke, and two year old Fin. The older couple, their children, and the two youngest couples had settled Gongaga. The rest had settled at Costa del Sol while he had been reworking the wagons for the journey across the ocean.

His sister would be married to Shin-Ra before he made it back. They might even have a child, because they still had to cross this continent, now that they had finally reached it. Jenova dropped gracelessly into the sand of the beach as soon as he had pulled the last wagon onto it, grateful for the moment to rest.

The Cual and her kittens curled around him a few minutes later. She had, thankfully, had females, so there were no additional kittens trying to take over his bed. Of course, the three did that well enough on their own! Worse, there was bound to be a male Caul around somewhere, and it would no doubt ensure that all three of the blasted things got pregnant at the same time, and then he’d never get the kittens out of his bed!

Jenova rose enough to spread his wings fully before collapsing back onto the sand. He wriggled just enough to be sure he was comfortable, and collapsed into sleep.

________________________________________  
Loki drew in his breath slowly, breathed out carefully. His wounds were many, varied, and intensely painful. Another careful breath followed another. His two eldest daughters were dead. Another slow breath. His four eldest sons, and the two youngest, dead. The next breath rattled a bit in his throat. His eldest daughter, properly dead at last.

“Hela,” he rasped when she stood over him.

“Don’t think I will welcome you to my realm,” she hissed at him.

“I… never did…” he managed. “But… someone… must tell…” He coughed, choking on his own blood as his daughter watched impassively. “Tell Jenova… and Loche… my death… siblings… not come…”

“What?”

Loki choked again. “Tell them… siblings… dead. I could not… get them… safely away…”

The ground shuddered beneath him. His magic curled protectively around him, weakened though it was. “Siblings?” Hela hissed. “Are you still on about that? There aren’t any others!”

A blue foot landed beside his head, and careless fingers lifted him. He dangled in the giant’s grip, his faltering gaze recognizing his true father. “Weak runt,” the giant intoned, and tossed him over the side of the bridge.

Panic alone assured Loki had the strength to direct his fall. His magic flared as he focused everything he had on the stars that lit the night sky of Minerva.

________________________________________  
“I hate being female,” Jenova groused, rubbing her belly. “I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate it!”

Shin-Ra chuckled, ducking his head to suck on a nipple. “You only hate it because the baby’s making you sick,” he murmured before suckling again. Jenova moaned softly, her fingers digging into his hair to ensure he would not escape – not that he tried to get away.

They both screamed a moment later. Jenova curled around her belly, protecting the small life within. Shin-Ra clutched at his head before his body began convulsing. Several other screams were followed by panicked shouting. The pain ebbed. Jenova uncurled slowly, and turned to face her lover.

“Shin-Ra?” she whispered disbelievingly. “Shin-Ra?”

The blond lay still. Blood trailed from his ears, his nose and mouth, from the corners of the wide-open blue eyes that stared sightlessly into the sun. Jenova shifted closer. His chest did not rise and fall, and his pulse did not beat against the fingers she pressed against his neck.

“Shin-Ra?” she whimpered before another wracking wave of pain swept over her. Shin-Ra’s body dissolved before her eyes, turning into bright green sparkles. A few of them kissed her skin as they passed, while others seemed to settle within her, easing the pain.

She focused on the source, not noticing how her skin shifted to her natural blue. And then she… jumped… to the location that brought the most pain, and found what was left of her mother just outside the Sacred City. That was the last thing she truly remembered until agony lanced through her belly once more, and she watched her silver-haired, green-eyed son sag against the tank surrounding her as a teen with bright, spikey blond hair like Rala’s pulled a sword from both of them before running away.

Tentacles burst from her, ripping the tank apart and catching her child. Her son. Her son! How? When? What had happened after – oh. No wonder she had screamed Laufey’s name when she had torn apart the Sacred City. He had destroyed her mother!

She focused her magic on her son, healing him as well as she could. It was difficult, given her condition, but better for him to survive than to die! “How…?” she murmured, and winced at the sound of her own voice.

“Mother,” the man said, reaching up to cup her face. His eyes were wide and bright, intelligent, and utterly without sanity. “Mother.”

Jevova ran a hasty magical check over herself. The babe in her womb was gone, so she ran one over the silver-haired son she held. He was hers, yes, her son and Shin-Ra’s, but there was... more to him than just them, now. There were faint traces of Miklain, of Lexine, and of Kaze, as if their genes had been diluted and mixed with those that had created her child.

“Mother,” he said again.

“My son,” she whispered back, reaching out to stroke her fingers through the beautiful silver hair. She rested her hands at his temples. “Tell me everything,” she ordered, and began to read the memories her words invoked.

“We will punish them,” she told him when the memories ended. “We will destroy this world, if that is what it takes to right the wrongs done to us, my son. Come, take me from here. We will begin immediately.”

Right up until his sword cut through her neck, revenge was a perfectly wonderful idea.

________________________________________

Characters:  
Shin-Ra – the lovely blond boy is, yes, dear Rufus’ many greats grandfather, and Jenova’s sometimes lover  
Faladin – this dark-haired beauty is Vincent’s many greats grandfather, and a great deal more amusing  
Krystal – the redhead, who has the grave misfortune of mothering Scarlet’s line, is Jenova’s current girlfriend  
Rala – another blond… The bunny is still ominously silent concerning her. I begin to worry.  
Miklain – a brunette boy, typically quiet and studious… and… well… the father of Hojo’s mother’s line  
Jorran - this is the guy who fathers Genesis’ line, and that lovely one takes after the father of the line.  
Loche – Loki and Tayla’s daughter, hasn’t a bit of magic in her blood, nor any obvious Cetran qualities. Somehow or another, Loki managed to sire a perfectly normal child. Sixteen at time of writing.  
Jenova - the oldest of the group, de facto leader, Loki’s child sired by a mortal Japanese shogun. Aged 30 at time of writing.

________________________________________

Author creative process goes here:

And… yes, there we go. Nov. 5, it’s officially done!

Jewel stares at it a bit. “Not real sure I particularly approve of where this went, but, well, it does kinda sorta make sense? Maybe?”


End file.
